


waiting in vain

by be_the_one



Series: c'était toi (you were the one) [2]
Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 (TV) RPF
Genre: F/M, andhisnonplatonicfeelingsforclarke, au-ish, followsthe100season1to4, hedoesntgettotellherthough, mildswearingisinvolved, mostlycenteredaroundbellamy, notreallyanau, okaynotsomild, sorryaboutthat, sothatfuckingsucks, wowthatmadenosense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 04:58:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16401752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/be_the_one/pseuds/be_the_one
Summary: It’s the same old situation.We’ve made it this far.We watched the rockets kiss the sky.I saw the flames burn out in your eyes.They’ve landed on Earth - it’s everything, and the the complete opposite of everything they’ve hoped for, at the same time. And Bellamy - Bellamy’s no longer the failed cadet he was on the Ark - and he’s no longer the boy hanging out in a metal pipe - waiting for his Princess to show up, or just hoping to catch a glimpse of blonde hair and blue eyes.This time, he’s the knight, fighting alongside his Princess.A/N: This is a continuation of the previous work in this series - so, it might be better if that was read first.





	waiting in vain

**Author's Note:**

> i'm seriously sleep deprived, so i'd like to apologize for the grammatical errors or typos in advance.

 

The first time Bellamy sees her again after her arrest, she’s dropping off the ladder in the dropship - and already barking out commands.

_Princess._

She tells him not to open the dropship door, and he can’t help but feel his heart speed up - because she’s talking to him, for the first time in _six years._

Still, he snarks at her, because they’re around people, and he has nothing to say other than _thank god you’re okay, I’ve fucking missed you -_ and he’s definitely not comfortable letting a hundred strangers know about his obsession with Clarke Griffin. It’s also because he’s an inexperienced pre-teen with a crush when she’s around, and the only way he can deal with his emotions is by acting like a grade-A-douche.

 

* * *

 

It surprises him, later on, when he lays it off on her - about her privilege, about her childhood, about everything, really - and he finds himself actually meaning most of it.

Of course, he does feel guilty about it, because he knows that she’s not to blame; _he knows_ she has no control over what kind of life she’s born in to - but it doesn’t change the fact that she lived comfortably, while he was working his ass off, and his sister was imprisoned for merely being alive.

 

* * *

 

But, of course, when he says he’ll kill her just to get the damn wristband off her wrist - he knows he doesn’t actually mean it.

And it’s fairly obvious, when she drops into the trap - a hole dug deep into the ground, covered with a patch of leaves - and his first instinct is to grab onto her.

He stares into her eyes, fully aware of the only thing keeping her from plummeting to death is his hand wrapped around her wrist.

Forget what he’s said during their trek through the woods, but he’s also painfully aware of how the two of them are polar opposites - how he was practically invisible to her, because he didn’t live in Alpha station; how she forgot about him; stopped smiling at him - and yeah, he can’t exactly blame her, because they’ve only had a five minute conversation _six years ago,_ and he was being a real dick - but he does mean it when he says he doesn’t want the rest of the Ark down on Earth.

Not just because he shot the Chancellor - but for Octavia too.

He refuses to go back to when the both of them were scared to death - scared to death of dying, just because Octavia was alive.

For a split second, Bellamy contemplates letting go.

But he can’t bring himself to loosen his fingers.

And then everyone’s crowding around them, and pulling her up, and he feels _horrified_ with himself.

_He shot the Chancellor to get here and - fucking hell, there’s no point in denying it to himself any longer; he’s had a nice, long think about it when the dropship was plummeting down to Earth - and it was partly for her._

_It’s barely been a day, and he somehow wants her dead?_

He wonders if the radiation has already gotten to his head.

Because - because, whether it’s his Princess or not - he’s not going to add another body to the list of deaths he’s caused.

But the _other fraction_ of the reason why he couldn’t let go of Clarke’s wrist becomes evident to him when they lock eyes afterwards, and he immediately loses himself in the icy blue irises - he notices that they’re the exact same shade as when they were children - but they’re _sparkling_ underneath the sunlight - whose rays catch on her hair, and manipulates it into a golden crown around her head.

He’s certain, at that moment, that he’s not wrong about his nickname.

He takes the _other fraction of the reason why he can’t let go_ like a punch in the gut, when Finn Collins picks out dead leaves from her hair, wipes away dirt on her cheek with his finger - smiling back at Clarke when she turns around to smile _at him._

He’s also pretty sure he’s seen Finn with some girl back on the Ark - but what does he know?

 

* * *

 

He tries to not let it get to him, when he thinks back to the journey in the woods that night - and he remembers calling her ‘Princess.’ It’s a slip of the tongue, really, and he finds a way to twist it before it’s clear that the nickname is more of a term of endearment.

But then Finn shows up - telling him to “get his own nickname” or whatever - and he wants to punch the guy, because it is _his_ nickname.

He doesn’t realize it at first, but he’s more or less talking to himself when he points out how Clarke looks at Finn to Wells.

 

* * *

 

The acid fog comes days later.

When Charlotte’s screams leads him to find Atom - blistered, blinded, and immobilized in the dirt - he knows what he has to do.

But he _can’t_ do it - because he can’t take another face in his nightmares.

He almost doesn’t notice when she creeps up - just like in the utility pipe - but she clears her throat. He whips her head towards her, but Clarke isn’t looking at him - she’s looking at Atom.

He’s not even holding out for hope when she kneels beside them, and gives an almost imperceptible shake of her head after looking Atom over.

But despite that, he feels his heart sink, and the hand holding the knife made out of scrap metal from the dropship begins to shake.

_He can’t take someone else’s life._

Even if he could - _he can’t kill someone else in front of her._

It shakes him to the core when Clarke lays a hand over his, and pulls the crude-looking knife out of his white-knuckled grasp.

At first, he’s confused, and he frowns just a little - she’s humming a song - one that he recognizes as something his mother used to sing when Octavia had panic attacks after being kept under the floor after periods of time.

What he doesn’t get is _why._

Why she’s humming a lullaby, when she’s holding a knife - she’s practically a walking oxymoron.

It should be fairly obvious - but like he’s said - the radiation has probably gotten to his head - so he’s a little slower than he usually is on the Ark. Not _that_ much slower, because he gets it seconds later, and it dawns on him - red as the blood that gushes out of Atom’s neck when she slides the blade in, and pulls it out.

Bellamy only stares at her.

He stares at her as she continues humming, until Atom drifts out of consciousness, and the two of them are the only ones in the clearing, with a corpse for company.

 

* * *

 

He watches her as she goes about the camp that night, fixing up the injured.

He’s hidden in the shadow of trees, because he’s not in the mood for any kind of social interaction - but he sees everything about her.

He sees the way she smiles at the younger kids, and how she talks to them - in an attempt to distract them from their wounds.

He sees how she never winces, or blanches at any wound she’s shown. Clarke swallows, frowns a little at the more graphic ones - and then gets to work.

He sees the way the firelight from the bonfire glints on her hair - turning it into a myriad of reds, yellows, golds, and oranges.

He watches her until half the camp has gone to sleep.

But once she settles down off to the side of the group - closer to the trees - Bellamy looks away, because watching her sleep is just borderline creepy.

However, that doesn’t mean she doesn’t make an appearance in at least one of his dreams - where he continues watching her.

And, _yeah,_ he’s acutely aware that it’s still creepy - and as far as everyone knows except for himself, the two of them hate each other.

_He doesn’t._

_He doesn’t hate her._

That much he knows for sure - because he’s been extremely vocal about his reasons for hating her - but when it comes down to it - _he doesn’t actually hate her at all._

He just doesn’t think his feelings are reciprocated.

 

* * *

 

He knows for sure his feelings aren’t reciprocated when they watch the flares go off, and he doesn’t have eyes for anyone but his Princess.

And she’s just staring at the sky.

It hurts a little - but it’s expected, because he’s aware of the fact that she’s forgotten he existed on the Ark at all.

 

* * *

 

It hurts a little more when he finds out that Clarke and Finn slept together - and that’s why things are so tense between the pair and Raven.

But he’s a hypocrite - because he’s been sleeping with other girls too - even if it’s just using them as a distraction.

If he’s being honest, it’s the fact that she doesn’t react to him sleeping with other girls the way he reacts to her sleeping with a single guy - a total douche, at that - that bothers him the most.

 

* * *

 

And it hurts a lot more when he and Finn come back from his mission to save Octavia, and his Princess only has eyes for Finn.

But to be fair - Bellamy isn’t the one who took a knife to his side.

Still hurts like a bitch, though.

 

* * *

 

It hurts him even more, when she refuses to go back down to the first floor of the dropship while he tortures Lincoln.

He knows how much it hurts her, to see people in pain, and be the one causing it - albeit indirectly - but she’s a doctor, and hurting someone is the exact opposite of what she does.

He tries his best to comfort her, later.

He’s still not sure if it works, but the barely- there smile she gives him leaves him in a state of euphoria for a good hour or so.

 

* * *

 

The first time she looks at him and smiles - _really smiles -_ is when he teaches her how to shoot a gun.

He’d be damned if it isn’t the most beautiful smile he’s ever seen.

And she has this look of surprised wonder on her face, that immediately takes him back to the moment when she found him in _their_ pipe.

He’s beginning to call it ‘their pipe,’ because he’s pretty sure the two of them are the best thing that’s ever happened to the place. And therefore - it’s theirs. _Logic be damned._

 

* * *

 

_She saves his life._

He knows Dax is about to kill him - he’s unarmed, with his back against the dirt, and facing the barrel of a gun.

He’s going to die.

He just doesn’t expect her to save him - he’s been walking alone in the woods for hours, and she hasn’t made a single appearance.

Apparently not, because she shows up at the last moment, and in the few seconds Clarke gives him when she diverts Dax’s attention, he’s gathered himself and manages to knock the latter down.

When Dax is bleeding out in the ground - and he’s curled up in a pathetic attempt at fighting off his demons.

She lays back with him - and he finds himself spilling everything to her.

She doesn’t judge him for what she says - instead, she listens, and she tells him he’s _good_ , and gives him hope.

When they’re done talking, they continue to sit side-by-side against the tree, enjoying the silence that falls around them.

 

* * *

 

Back at the dropship, she convinces Jaha to pardon him - and Bellamy can’t help the rush of warmth he feels everytime she says something about him that makes him seem worth redeeming.

He goes to sleep that night, the happiest he’s been in days.

 

* * *

 

The feeling doesn’t last long, when barely two days later, John Murphy stumbles back into camp, and brings along some kind of virus with him.

When he walks into the dropship, and sees Clarke crouching next to Murphy - telling him to _stay back -_ a million different thoughts runs through his mind.

_Had Murphy done something to her?_

When she lifts his head to meet his gaze, his notices the tear tracks along her cheeks. Only - they’re not the color of regular tears. They’re smudged away, mostly, but it almost looks as though she’d had blood dripping from her eyes.

At that exact moment, blood spews from Murphy’s mouth - and Bellamy connects the dots.

His stomach just _drops,_ and he can feel his heart skip a beat.

 

* * *

 

She turns out to be fine, and he doesn’t think he’s ever been so relieved.

 

* * *

 

They turn out to make a great team.

He’s somewhat surprised, because the two of them are as different as they come.

He gets to know her.

He loves every little thing he learns.

He learns that she’s an artist.

He saw one of her drawings when he’d gone to look for her in her tent - but she was gone. The charcoal art, however, was laying on her bedroll.

He took it - he’d folded it up, and stuck it in the waistband of his pants. Just to have something of her’s with him.

 

* * *

 

He makes a huge mistake the next day.

He sleeps with Raven.

The entire camp knows the drama surrounding Finn, Raven, and Clarke.

Everyone knows how Finn and Clarke look at each other.

He knows.

And he hates it.

He’d thought they were over, after Raven had landed, but when they both go missing during the hunting trip - he can’t help but think that he’s wrong.

So - he doesn’t object when Raven comes to him.

He hates himself for it, when the two return - after being kidnapped by the grounders.

 

* * *

 

The last thing he sees before the dropship door closes is her face.

And then it’s gone - behind a thick layer of metal he has no way of getting through.

_Had to be done._

He’s up and moving, as quickly as possible - he has to move - he has to get away from the place, before everything goes _boom._

He’s a little worried, when after a long while - the explosion doesn’t happen. But then it does.

He hears the screams.

He feels the ground shake.

He falls too.

And he stays there - for the rest of the night.

 

* * *

 

He misses her.

He misses her smile. Her hair. Her eyes.

He saves Finn, because as much as he hates the guy, he knows it what Clarke would’ve wanted him to do - even if it wasn’t Finn, but a stranger.

He scours every place he can think of, after the find the dropship abandoned, but he isn’t able to find her.

 

* * *

 

When he and the rest return to Camp Jaha, with only a girl from Factory station - instead of Clarke and the remaining of the 100, he’s _this_ close to tearing his hair off.

But then someone comes barrelling towards him, and all he sees is a flash of blonde hair, before that _someone_ tackles him and wraps their arms around him.

It’s a girl, he can tell, by the curves pressing against him. She’s holding him tight - as if he was her lifeline.

It takes Bellamy exactly two seconds to realize who she is. He’s spent enough time around her - it’s enough time to memorize her scent, and the way she moves, - everything.

And then it’s him - clinging onto Clarke.

From the way they’re holding each other - he’s sure it’s going to be implanted into his memory indefinitely.

He feels a stab of guilt, when he barely gives a second thought about how she’d said no one else was with her - but her mere presence is so overwhelming, that it’s a challenge to even form coherent sentences.

He feels another stab - it’s a lot sharper, and a lot of painful than the previous - when she asks about Finn.

Bellamy has no right to feel that way - jealous - but he does. He only hopes his face remains neutral when he answers.

From the way Octavia appraises him, his face is probably not even close to normal.

 

* * *

 

_“I can’t lose you too, okay?”_

He can’t lose her either - when he eventually leaves to head for Mount Weather, her words are the only thing keeping him going.

And Bellamy hopes - that wherever Clarke is, she knows that he won’t be able to bear it if he lost her.

 

* * *

 

In the end - he does lose her.

They make the entire journey back to camp together - only for him to find that she has no intention of going in.

Instead, she backtracks.

The realization that she was doing _exactly what she told him not to do - never to leave her -_ is like having a weight pressed onto his chest.

Bellamy feels his heart shattering as she begins to walk away - and it hurts so much, than he can barely register the fact that she’s kissed him for the first time.

_“May we meet again.”_

He hopes so.

He hopes - he really hopes.

But deep down, he doubts it.

 

* * *

 

The first week without Clarke is hell.

Except, if it was hell, she’d probably still be there - making out with someone right in front of his face.

It’d tear him apart to watch, he admits, but he’d be damned if he wouldn’t choose it over her absence.

 

* * *

 

He meets Gina.

He accidentally bumps into her during one of his nightly runs - he runs before heading to bed, hoping that the exercise exhausts him to the point where his brain is unable to conjure up dreams of his Princess.

He bumps into her, and they strike up a conversation.

After a couple days - she kisses him.

He kisses her back.

Bellamy actually likes Gina - he really does, but he can’t help the fact that his dreams are of Clarke.

 

* * *

 

The next time he sees his Princess - _truly_ sees her - unbound, ungagged, and scrubbed clean of blood - his every nerve freezes.

She has her hair done in braids, and smoky black ink smeared around her eyes.

She looks exactly like how a warrior princess should - but not how _his_ warrior princess does.

The icy blue of her eyes stand out even more, and they pierce right inside of him.

He’s thought of this moment for a million times - he’d pull her into his arms, hold her to him, bury his face in her hair, and surround himself with her scent.

This moment goes horribly wrong.

They barely touch.

She blinks once, twice.

And all the fragile hope he’s built up over the months their relationship grew - shatters again.

_She doesn’t feel the same way._

_Never has._

_Never will._

It makes it easier for him, when he walks away without a backwards glance.

 

* * *

 

He’s not sure when he officially lets go of his anger.

But he knows it’s sometime before their talk on the beach.

That moment only allows him to realize that he’s not mad at her anymore - when he digs deep inside him to search for the burning hatred he’d harboured for her - only to find it gone.

He’s relieved, if he’s being completely honest.

Of course he’s relieved - loving and hating a person at the same time is frustrating as hell.

 

* * *

 

Bellamy doesn’t notice _it_.

He only notices the general feeling of _it_ \- like how even while he’s losing consciousness from the elixir they’d taken - just to meet Luna - the only thing he cares about is his Princess, laying next to him - illuminated by the firelight, and oblivious to the world.

 

* * *

 

 _It_ never really makes an appearance again - not until they’re at Polis, and she’s sitting on the throne - with tubes in her arm, and her head bent - ready to take the chip.

She stretches her hand out - and he takes it immediately.

He’s not going to stop her - no matter how twisted his organs are inside of him at the thought of Clarke risking her life.

So he holds on to her hand - lending as much support as he takes from her.

The chip goes in, and his heart clenches painfully when his Princess begins to thrash around.

But then she opens her eyes, and says - she says she has to take the chip.

_No._

His first thought is, _no._

_No - a thousand times, no._

_No - a million times, no._

But still, he finds himself making his way to a table off to the side - he finds himself picking up a chip - he finds himself holding it out to her.

And the entire time - he’s cursing himself - he’s hating himself - he’s ready to tear himself apart - because giving her the chip, _may actually kill her._

But he trusts her.

He trusts her to come back to him.

He trusts her to come back, because _he loves her._

He loves her.

The realization hits him like a punch to the gut - he’s been feeling a lot of non-existent punches since landing on Earth - and now, when she swallows the chip, he realizes that _he loves her._

He fights to keep his face neutral, because it’s too late now.

She’s slipping away, so the only thing he _can_ fight, are the hordes of people bursting through the doors.

_He loves her._

 

* * *

 

_He loves her._

Bellamy doesn’t really know what to do about the revelation.

Especially when they’re on their way back to Arkadia - and it’s all he can think about.

But he finds that it’s easy to sink in a routine - and pretend that his feelings for her are purely platonic, considering they never were in the first place.

Sometimes, he thinks that Clarke might feel a fraction of what he feels for her, when they share secret glances - or when they exchange secret smiles.

But then he remembers that she’s into the blonde helping out in the med bay - _Niylah._

 

* * *

 

One drunken - barely memorable - night with Monty, when they toast to the end of the world, again - he accidentally lets his jealousy slip.

_“I wish I was the blonde in the med bay.” He confesses._

_“What?” Monty squints at him._

_“I wish I was the-”_

_“-Yes, I heard you. I meant - what the fuck? Are you having a gender crisis?”_

_“I dunno, man. I just - I wish I was.”_

_Monty just stares, and then purses his lips together and nods - as if what Bellamy had said made sense._

_In their botched version of reality, though - it probably did._

_But then, Monty frowns deeply, and nudges Bellamy - spilling half of his moonshine in the process. “Wait. Isn’t Clarke supposed to be the blonde in the med bay?”_

_Bellamy groans. “The Princess is exactly my problem.”_

_“Ah.” Monty nods again, and looks Bellamy in the eye. “You’re jealous of her hair, is that it?”_

_A mere grunt is given as a response, and he tips the remainder of the moonshine down his throat._

 

* * *

 

He wakes up to the sound of crying.

At first, he thinks he’s in his own bed, in his own room - but as Bellamy gains further consciousness, he realizes he’s been sleeping on her couch.

_He’s been doing that a lot lately._

He also realizes that the sobs he hears are from Clarke.

He has to rub the sleep out of his eyes, and blink a couple of times to be certain - but it’s his Princess, with her head in her hands.

It still takes Bellamy a while to believe it, because he can’t remember the last time he’s seen her cry. Hell - he can’t remember if he’s ever seen her cry.

She’s sitting at her desk, with a piece of paper in front of her.

It doesn’t take a lot of effort to know what the piece of paper contains.

It doesn’t take any effort at all to know why she’s crying.

He takes a step towards her, and sure enough - the space next to _100_ is blank, and the space next to _99_ is filled in with the name _Bellamy Blake._

A scan of the entire page is unnecessary, but he still does it - and again, his gut is correct, because he doesn’t see the name _Clarke Griffin_ anywhere.  

He understands why her own name isn’t written down. If it were him constructing the list, he wouldn’t write his own name down either.

But he also knows that there’s no way he’d ever be of any use without her - he’s said as much to Jaha earlier, when they were looking for the bunker - so he takes the charcoal pencil from her, and writes it down for her - his messy scrawl ruining the aesthetic her neatly printed handwriting had created.

Obviously, he doesn’t care at all, because at least he knows that they’ll stay together.

 

* * *

 

The next time he sees her cry is when she’s shooting at him.

It’s to keep him from opening the bunker, but _everyone_ is outside.

She only makes one shot before she drops the gun, but the teardrops fall nevertheless.

He hates seeing her cry.

It hurts more than knowing she just tried to shoot him - because, again, he understands why - he’d do the same thing if the roles were reversed.

At least, he knows that she needs him just as much as he needs her.

 

* * *

 

She cries again, when he tells her that with the radio dead, they have no way of letting her communicate with her mother.

This time - he doesn’t hesitate to pull her in his arms.

They hold on to each other - anchoring, and drawing comfort - until Monty calls them.

 

* * *

 

He walks away from her - or, tries to - when she starts talking about dying.

Which, isn’t happening. Not until the both of them are ready.

Still, she persists.

He tries not to look at her, when she tells him she’d hated him at first - it’s a known fact, but it reminds him of just how long he’s been in love with her.

 

* * *

 

_“Raven’s premonition came through.”_

He almost tells her.

Bellamy is about to get the words out - he’s about to look her in the eye, and say _I love you, Clarke._

He’s about to tell her why her mother’s premonition _won’t come true,_ and it’s because he _loves_ her - and there’s no way the universe would make him love someone so much - only to take her away from him, before he’s had the chance to say the words.

But then Raven interrupts them, and he figures that when the both of them are safe and sound, and back on the Ark - he’ll tell her then.

He’ll tell her why he knew she’d never die. _Because he loves her. And it’s enough._

 

* * *

 

It’s like a big, cosmic joke when Bellamy finds out that his love for Clarke - apparently, isn’t enough.

 

* * *

 

_“I left her behind.”_

He left her.

He fucking left the only person that he _promised_ to never fucking leave because _‘whatever they do - they do it together’_ and Bellamy is so fucking wrecked at the realization that the only thing he can fucking say is _I left her_ like a fucking coward.

And yes, he’s fucking aware he’s saying the word _fuck_ way more than necessary, and his thoughts are running on and on like a broken radio but the situation seems to call for the repeated mentions of _fuck_ and his oxygen tank is depleted - so naturally his brain is malfunctioning.

He left her behind.

_What kind of fucking knight leaves the fucking princess behind?_

_What's worse, is that he didn't even get the chance to tell her._

**Author's Note:**

> i'm thinking of making this a four-part series...


End file.
